


As the world caves in

by xiamer



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Based on a song, Enjolras Has Feelings, Kinda, M/M, and they’re not great tbh, borderline existentialism, enj and cosette are NOT siblings, fluffy at the end ?, gross ik, no seriously i looped it the whole time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiamer/pseuds/xiamer
Summary: And he was seeking said break, in the rain, under the stars. In this moment, he could be Julien Enjolras, the kid with a dream and a passion for life, instead of M. Enjolras, head of a well known nonprofit, and leader extraordinaire.It was too stressful to be M. Enjolras sometimes.Based on a song, and the title is from said song -“As the world caves in”, by Matt Maltese
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Les Amis de l'ABC Friendship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	As the world caves in

**Author's Note:**

> Eleanor get your shit together challenge 
> 
> so i was at my rich aunts house today, and she has a wholeass courtyard there, so i kinda just threw myself into the grass there, and just existed for a solid two hours in the sun, which is what this is kinda based off of, except i WISH it was raining when i did this 
> 
> kinda ?? projecting ?? onto poor Enjolras ??
> 
> it wouldn’t be a xiamer fic w/out me subtly (not so subtly) pushing my own problems onto Enjolras
> 
> also there’s a scene in here that’s TOTALLY a décrispation of chapter 8 page 25 of “The Glass Scientists” because i have the DUMBEST condition on the planet, called aphantasia which means can’t picture anything in my mind, so that’s dumb and i had to use references to portray the scene i want

Parties and galas were always the hardest part of Enjolras’ life. 

He had been forced to attend them going back as far as he could remember, and he always hated them. There were too many adults who treated him like a child, dumbing down their language for him. Those same adults then turned completely as soon as he turned 15. He went from being talked down to, to being expected to understand every subject that was brought forth. Enjolras had to be everything that the richest snobs in France wanted him to be. 

Perhaps this was where he was able to develop his real personality from, or perhaps it fractured it. The hatred of those with more money than they even knew how to spend definitely fame from lavish “charity” galas, but then again, he had adhered to what they wanted. 

In short, the parties that Enjolras had been forced to attend from age 5 to age 17 had instilled his own sense of personal values, but had also caused him to flip between a public and private persona. 

When first setting up Les Amis de l’ABC at age 18, Enjolras hadn’t expected that by age 23 he’d be the head of a nonprofit. He knew he had a talent for orating, and was naturally looked to as a leader, but he still hadn’t imagined that he’d be able to truly have such an influence. Obviously, that was what he wanted and what he had hoped for, but there was always the part of him that believed that that couldn’t happen. 

However, along with the charity, came the need for actual funds. 

Charity galas. 

The words felt dirty to him. Enjolras knew that what he grew up with weren’t actual charity events, but just the thought of them had corrupted the actual words “charity gala”. The events that the Enjolras family hosted were excuses to show off their wealth, but also for tax write-offs. Any money raised was pocketed, and it was just an overall cycle of corruption. 

The events that Les Amis were organising were nothing like that, but Enjolras still felt sullied by the mere memory of them. What they were doing was indeed a charity gala, but in the true sense of the word. Everything would be donated, and those who attended were decent and respectable human beings. 

So why did it still feel wrong?

Enjolras was standing in the middle of the room, holding a champagne glass that he had had for so long that the carbonation had left it. People were definitely talking to him, and it was all he could do to simply smile and nod along. Soon enough, Combeferre would be giving a speech, and everyone would be paying attention to that. 

Enjolras had declined to speak at the event. He himself wasn’t even certain about why he did, but he knew that this was not the right event for him. Enjolras spoke at rallies and protests. Enjolras spoke in high pressure situations. Enjolras spoke to motivate people. None of that passion was needed for a charity event. People were here to donate money, not to listen to a tirade on the benefits of proper democracy. 

Enjolras had migrated to a back corner of the room, trying to find someone that he knew. It wasn’t that he hated talking to benevolent strangers, it was simply that sometimes he felt completely burnt out; his social skills would just turn off as though it were a flick of a light switch. He could go from being happily engaged in a discussion, to just staring and nodding along, feeling completely alone despite the crowded room. 

There was no luck to be found when trying to locate any of Les Amis, so Enjolras awkwardly stayed in the corner and drank a small sip of his lukewarm champagne. He was in the beginning of a burn out; just wanting to leave but knowing he has to stay. All he could do was keep a neutral expression, stare ahead, and sip on his (honestly pretty shitty) champagne. Enjolras was never one for drinking, but the occasion called for it, and the last thing he wanted was to call attention to himself in a negative regard. 

After an agonisingly long time of trying to keep his mind inside the building, a hush fell across the room as Combeferre stepped up to the microphone at the stage in the centre of the room. Enjolras had heard his speech at least two dozen times, as Combeferre was still a little timid when it came to speeches. 

And knowing this fact, Enjolras was certain that he would not be needed for anything, so he took the moment to set him still mostly full glass on a table, and slip out from the room. 

The building was a large building in the heart of the city. It had been around for ages, being built during the Ancien Régime. It was big enough that no one would notice him sneaking to the courtyard in the middle. As soon as Enjolras had left the main room, however, he noticed the sound of rain that had been earlier drowned out due to the noise level in the event hall. 

Enjolras loved the rain. It was soothing and helped to calm his constantly racing thoughts. When there was rain, there would always be a soft sound to calm him down. Whenever he heard rain, he gave into the temptation to sit out in it at least 60% of the time. Joly would have a fit if he knew about it, but that stayed Enjolras’ small secret from his hypochondria prone friend. 

The tuxedo that Enjolras was wearing wasn’t very expensive, and he found that it was very awkwardly fitting, so if it got wet from the rain, he wasn’t too concerned. 

Pulling open a large wooden door, Enjolras walked into the courtyard, taking care to shut said door behind him. 

There was a ring of about five stone benches that were surrounded by trees. They all faced into the centre of the courtyard, and given the setup, one would think that there would be some grand centrepiece, but all there was in the middle was lush grass. 

As soon as he stepped forward, Enjolras immediately felt soaked, and he absolutely loved it. He let out a small, but delighted laugh and walked to the centre of the benches, unceremoniously throwing himself onto his back on the ground. Folding his arms behind his head, he looked up into the dark sky, letting the rain wash over him, and watching the stars. 

Enjolras fished through his pockets for his phone, put in his earbuds, and pulled up the one song he played on occasions like this. 

The actual story behind the song was pretty funny; being written as a love ballad between two world leaders as they watch the world turn to atomic warfare that they caused. The entire song was meant as satire, but Enjolras loved it for reasons beyond that. It was powerful in just the musical sense, and the feelings that were evoked in him were always very existential, and felt perfect for moments such as the one he found himself in. 

Enjolras closed his eyes as the first chorus came. 

_ And here it is, our final night alive _

_ And as the earth runs to the ground _

Enjolras sighed contentedly, stretching his legs a little. He felt a little cold, but that was one of the best parts. The chill that was brought with the rain helped remind him that this was an entirely different world than the one he usually lived in. 

He loved humanity, but sometimes Enjolras found it very difficult to do so. People were always making terrible decisions, and some would never listen to reform or new ideas. Enjolras wished that people could see the world I’m the way that he did, but he knew it would never be that easy, which is why he continued to fight in the ways that he knew he could. 

Enjolras loved humanity, but he needed a break.

And he was seeking said break, in the rain, under the stars. In this moment, he could be Julien Enjolras, the kid with a dream and a passion for life, instead of M. Enjolras, head of a well known nonprofit, and leader extraordinaire. 

It was too stressful to be M. Enjolras sometimes. 

Enjolras opened his eyes again as the song got to the second chorus.

_ And here it is, our final night alive _

_ And as the earth runs to the ground _

Another laugh bubbled up through his throat, the only word to describe it being giddy. He was as excited as a child getting a gift, and in a way that’s exactly what he was. He didn’t have a real childhood, and he wasn’t allowed to splash in puddles or play in the rain. One might say that he was making up for lost time. 

_ Yes it's you I welcome death with _

_ As the world, as the world caves in _

_ As the world caves in _

The song finished out, but Enjolras didn’t move to get up; all he did was take his earbuds out and put his phone away. It was in this moment that he heard something come over to him. 

Enjolras knew he should be surprised that there was someone next to him, but he was too relaxed, under the rain, to care.

Whoever it was flopped down next to him, positioning themself as though they were the Gus to his Hazel; an appropriate amount of distance between them despite this. 

Enjolras lazily turned his head to see Grantaire looking back at him. 

“Hey,” he whispered. 

Grantaire laughed. “Hey,” he whispered right back. 

“What’re you doing out here?”

“Well I saw you leave, and I wasn’t sure if you were alright, so I followed just to make sure.”

That made Enjolras falter for a moment. 

“How long have you been out here?”

“You were already laying down by the time I got here.”

It was interesting to hear that Grantaire cared to follow him and see if he was alright. Realistically, Enjolras knew that there was some special relationship between the two of them. Courfeyrac liked to call it unresolved sexual tension, Jehan preferred artistic pining, and Éponine just called it plain obliviousness. 

Enjolras wanted to act on it in some way, but he was never sure how. He was never sure when it came to emotions. His parents were completely emotionally distant and he was raised in a setting that didn’t promote positive touch or mental health, leading to his crippling anxiety and poor reaction to physical affection. But knew that despite the cheesiness of it, he really, REALLY wanted to kiss Grantaire. 

Weird to know that he accepted it so quickly. 

“Grantaire?”

Grantaire had shifted his attention to the stars in the silence, but turned back down to Enjolras when he heard him speak.

“Hm?”

Clearing his thoughts and taking a deep breath, Enjolras said, in a rush, “In vain I have struggled. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Grantaire’s questioning expression broke into a joyous grin at the words. 

“Did you just quote Pride and Prejudice at me?”

Enjolras blushed and looked down. 

“Oh my god I did,” he said timidly. 

Grantaire’s smile grew wider, and he pulled them both into a sitting position. 

“To be fair, I always believed that you were more of a Lizzie than a Darcy, but go on, tell me ‘how ardently you admire and love me’.”

Enjolras scrunched up his nose and responded, “words don’t work for me right now, please say something instead.”

Grantaire laughed, the sound full and loud, before leaning in, eyes questioningly asking for consent, which was wholeheartedly given. 

Enjolras was not a tactile person. He grew up in a household that discouraged interacting with people in that way unless it got you some sort of advantage. 

Enjolras was not someone who was in touch with his emotions. He grew up in a household that scoffed at any sort of mental illness, writing it off as a weak link in a chain of otherwise successful businessmen. 

Enjolras did not understand (nor take the time to understand) many things about himself. But in the middle of the courtyard, under the rain, Enjolras wasn’t sure that he really needed to understand. 

All he needed to do was to know. 

**Author's Note:**

> like it ? love it ? im just glad you read it !
> 
> ok ok ok so enjolras is defo ooc at the end, because he’s not the romantic type, but i like to think he’d panic and quote someone when he has to deal with his emotions 
> 
> Grantaire is literally so hard to write, idk how y’all do this, like this is why he never shows up in my fics, he’s too fuckibg hard to write
> 
> and i have a wip that heavily features him, so that’s why that fic isn’t up yet, because i quite frankly do not know how he would react and these characters in general are so hard to write 
> 
> but anyway, rant session over, i really just wrote this because i got weird today and i like to transfer my feelings to writing so YEAH
> 
> i love you all  
> -el <3


End file.
